Cat's Cradle
by Foxfire1
Summary: More of Jaenelle's adventures, from a Kindred perspective.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The Black Jewels universe and concepts belong to Anne Bishop; I'm just sneaking in to play in her sandbox and will put everything back the way I found it. And - as if anyone needs telling - I'm not making any money off of this.  
  
Author's Notes: Written because I always wondered what Jaenelle was getting up to during her excursions in "Daughter of the Blood". Here's one possibility, from the point of view of the Arcerian cats.  
  
  
  
*Lady. Wake up. Something's coming.*  
  
In the warm darkness of her den, Liriash rolled to her feet, tail lashing in long, slow arcs behind her. The voice that had woken her was young, male, and laced with apprehension - and very little frightened an Arcerian male, even the adolescents who the coven tolerated until they reached maturity. She couldn't help but think of hunters; the two-legs stood no more than an even chance of taking an Arcerian as prey, but that didn't mean she wanted to risk the coven against them. Let the males test their strength against two-legs if they wanted; _she_ had cubs and Sisters to worry about.  
  
Her thoughts spun out like the anchor strands of a Web - a quick alert to the other two witches she trusted for defense, a command to the three nursing mothers to take their cubs to the Queen's den, where they could all be protected, and a quick touch of reassurance to the yearling male who stood sentry tonight. His gratitude and worry echoed back to her, along with responses from the two witches she'd called. Halla simply acknowledged the alert with her usual dour competence; Shaleer, all kittenish energy despite being weaned seasons ago, flooded her mind with questions. Liriash tilted her ears back in annoyance and ignored them, having other things to worry about; Falan, their Queen, trusted her with defense of the coven, and she wouldn't let her down.  
  
She padded out of her den and slid through the low-hung entrance, loping across the fallen leaves outside and vanishing into the trees. As she ran, she took that single mental sidestep that all Black Widows learned; there was no time to really search the visions, but even a hint could be helpful. She walked the patterns of the Webs every night - only stupid two-legs thought you needed hands and a frame to weave a Web - and they served a double purpose. They wove a subtle spell to deflect enemies and welcome possible friends, and they could call up visions for their weaver. Tonight they showed her a trio of strangers - a wise, curious youngling, a Black Widow more powerful than Liriash would ever be, and an ancient creature filled with joy and rage at once.  
  
She growled softly in frustration as the othersight left her. There was nothing here to tell her how to protect her Sisters, and improvisation was not her strong point. She had the woods around the coven's dens layered with illusion webs and things more dangerous than that, but nothing that would stop a Black Widow with the power she'd seen.  
  
She sacrificed stealth for speed, branches cracking under her paws as she crested the knoll where the sentry cub waited for her and where Halla and Shaleer would meet her. The spot was carefully chosen, the only place where the Winds came close to the coven and therefore the likeliest place for marauding two-legs to appear. The cub who'd been on sentry duty spun around at her approach, rubbing his cheek against her fur in an unconscious plea for reassurance. *Your Webs warned me, lady - whatever it is, they can feel it coming.*  
  
The Webs? *You did the right thing to call me.* She rubbed cheeks with him briefly. *Halla and Shaleer will be here in a moment. Make sure they stay with you, in case it's hunters coming on the Winds.*  
  
*Where will you be?* he asked in immediate concern.  
  
*Following a hunch. _Don't_ follow me.* She bounded off into the darkness, threading through the trees with careless skill while her mind focused on the Webs. Something the cub had said tugged at her instincts, and a Black Widow learned early to trust instinct above everything else.  
  
The Webs were drawing power from her Jewels, coursing along the subtle patterns she'd woven into the foundation Web. The patterns she'd created to call friends or deflect enemies...skilled enough Blood could sense that power from a distance and use it as a beacon, jumping blind through the Darkness and coming at the coven from a completely different angle.  
  
If they tried it here, they'd find her waiting. She could fight here if she had to - the Webs themselves would help her. But even the simplest Web could do terrible things to an untrained mind; Halla and Shaleer would not be able to help her here.  
  
She raced to a point just short of the Web's center, threw a Green sight shield around herself, and waited with both mental and physical eyes wide and wary. Whatever it was, it was coming soon.  
  
But she'd never expected what _did_ come: a human she-kitten with curious blue eyes, who dropped from the Winds to the center of the Web. All alone, and far too young to be separated from her mother - if she were Arcerian, she wouldn't be more than half-weaned. But Liriash's othersight saw more, saw three creatures where the little one stood. The child, the Black Widow, and the ancient, angry stranger - all three of her visions walked in one body.  
  
_And what in the name of the Darkness do I _do_ with her?_  
  
But the she-kitten solved that problem for her when she examined the Web with a colleague's friendly interest, and turned to Liriash with eyes that saw straight through her sight shield. "It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "How do you make it call like that?"  
  
*******  
  
Ten minutes later, they were all at ease together in Falan's roomy den - Liriash, Shaleer, Falan herself, and the little human, who'd given her name as Jaenelle. Currently, she was watching in delighted fascination as Falan's cubs tumbled around her lap. Liriash took the opportunity for a closer examination of the human she-kitten - her psychic scent was powerful and clean, but the body was confusing at best. Scrupulously clean, but not well fed at all - and where could her dam be? No Arcerian female would let a half-weaned cub wander alone like this; there were dangers out there, even for something as strong as the great Kindred cats.  
  
Or as strong as the little witch who sat next to her, in all her deceptive fragility.  
  
*How _did_ you get here, cub?* she asked.  
  
"Cub?" She giggled at some private joke. "I have a friend who calls me Cat, but I don't think he's ever seen anything like _you_." There was honest admiration in her voice. "And it was easy to find you-"  
  
Hell. She was going to have to strengthen the concealment spells around their territory.  
  
"-your Web said you wanted friends. And I like making friends. So I came here," she said brightly.  
  
Hell's _fire_. Liriash wove her Webs to subtly encourage friendly visitors - males and the occasional witch from another Kindred race - but you had to all but walk across one to feel it at all. The raw power it would take to sense that from a distance, much less to home in on it like an Arcerian on her prey...well, she'd already sensed that power.  
  
Titanic power. Strong as a blizzard. All of it contained in the body of the human child in the den, who was watching her with an expression friendly and innocent as any kitten's.  
  
She chuffed in mixed amusement and resignation, stood up, and rubbed her cheek affectionately across the top of Jaenelle's head. *Cub, I think you're going to make my life very interesting.* 


	2. Chapter Two

Very Short Author's Note: Thanks to LadyRhiyana and Vesica, whose reviews triggered an extra chapter. :-)  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Jaenelle ghosted through the forest as quietly as a puff of air, and Liriash cast an approving look over her shoulder. The cub had been distracted and clumsy when she first arrived that morning, but when she relaxed she was as easy in the woods as any wild thing. Whatever had been troubling her, she'd forgotten it for now; she was bright-eyed and interested, intently watching every footstep Liriash took.  
  
As well she should. She'd taken it into her head to watch Liriash maintaining her Webs, and the cat, recognizing the curiosity of a natural Black Widow, was glad to show her how the Kindred did it. As far as she knew, no humans had Webs like this, great structures that spanned generations - Liriash had added refinements since she came to den here, but the Web's basic structure was far older than she was.  
  
"Do they help you see things?" Jaenelle asked, frowning curiously at the anchor line that ran under her feet.  
  
*They're mostly for defense, but if you spend as much time with them as I do, then yes, they'll give you visions. And _you_ could probably do anything with them that you wanted to.*  
  
"I can't," she admitted, shamefaced.  
  
*You - cub, of course you can. I've seen what you do for _fun_, and that's far beyond what most witches can do.*  
  
"But I can't do what everybody else can! I try and it goes wrong or falls apart or shows me things I don't _want_ to see-"  
  
*Cub.* Liriash stopped dead in her tracks, effectively blocking the way for both of them, and pressed up against Jaenelle's side with a rumbling, reassuring purr vibrating through her chest. *_No_ one can do what everybody else can. Falan can't weave Webs, I can't Heal-*  
  
"You can't?" Jaenelle's eyes widened in concern. "But Healing's wonderful, and it's not that hard, really it's not."  
  
*But I still can't do it.* Not that she really felt the loss; much as she loved it, the Black Widows' Craft was quite demanding enough. *A good Healer has to be open; a good Black Widow has to be wary. It's a rare witch who can find the balance to be both, and even rarer to have the gift and the balance at once.*  
  
"...Oh." Jaenelle didn't say anything else as they walked the Webs, just followed Liriash with a pleased and faintly surprised expression on her face, like a cub who'd gotten an unexpected compliment. Liriash was glad of the pleasure, but couldn't understand the surprise - surely Jaenelle understood how rare her gifts were? Liriash had known the child was a Black Widow and suspected her Healing gifts - and no one with a Jewel and the mind to use it could miss that she was a Queen - but a youngling with those three gifts should be bursting with the desire to use them, not tentative and afraid of being caught. Not for the first time, she wondered where Jaenelle's dam was and what she could be teaching the cub.  
  
With Jaenelle watching closely, she finished walking the Webs, tracing the pattern to the center of the main Web and pouring power into it from her Green Jewel. She sealed it with an intricate little flourish of power, an intertwined lace of Green-glowing lines that hung in the air for a moment before fading into the Web. As far as she knew, only the Kindred knew the way of that little knot, and it was what let them create Webs that outlived their weaver.  
  
That done, Liriash stretched luxuriously - proud as she was of her Craft, it was always like lifting a burden to have the Webs tended for the day - and followed Jaenelle back to the clearing where the coven denned. Midway back, Jaenelle bounced into a run - Black Widow she might be, but she was still a cub before anything else. Liriash huffed in mild exasperation and trotted after her.  
  
In the clearing, Halla was drilling the yearling cubs, male and female alike. The male cubs' lessons would continue longer; Arcerian males rarely banded together as the witches did, which meant that male cubs had to face the double threat of survival on their own and territory challenges from other males. Halla poured herself into those lessons, passing on everything she'd learned in her long life - the coven couldn't risk having full-grown males nearby when the next litter came, but they still wanted the best for their sons.  
  
And Halla, despite what Liriash would doubtless hear later from the current group of bruised and resentful cubs, gave them the best.  
  
Jaenelle plopped down on the grass to watch, with a dubious look toward the young Prince Halla was sparring with. "What's she _doing_?"  
  
*Teaching them,* Liriash answered, stretching out alongside her. *Fighting, hunting - Falan teaches them Protocol, which has kept more young males out of trouble than I'll ever be able to count - and Halla teaches them what to do if they get _in_ trouble.*  
  
"Oh." Jaenelle brightened. "Can I try?"  
  
Mother Night. Liriash squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her chin to her forepaws. *She's much bigger than you are-*  
  
"So's Sceron, and _he's_ teaching me how to use a bow."  
  
_Definitely_ still a cub. The kind that chewed your ears and climbed over your head if you tried to keep it in the den. *And she's got a lot to keep her busy right now. She's worried about that Prince, and I don't blame her.*  
  
"What's wrong with him?"  
  
*Nothing - if he survives, he'll make a good Prince. But the things that make a good Prince make an overconfident cub, and right now he stands an even chance of getting killed by some strange male because he tried to take his territory.* Worry made her inner voice sharp, and Jaenelle frowned in shared concern.  
  
"Can't he ask to share?"  
  
*It takes a lot of game to feed an Arcerian. And as you may have noticed, males aren't terribly good at talking to each other,* she added dryly.  
  
That got the hint of a giggle from Jaenelle, but a moment later she flinched back against Liriash's ribs as Halla let out an echoing snarl. Liriash, who'd seen this at least once a season for years, sat calmly as Halla sprang on the yearling Prince, bowling him over in a tangle of fur and flashing teeth. There was always one in a litter who tried it - usually some male who asked why he needed to pay attention to a past-her- prime hunter. Which was when Halla left sparring behind and showed him _exactly_ why he should listen.  
  
So she watched with lazy interest, only the tip of her tail twitching, and after a moment Jaenelle took her cue from Liriash and relaxed as well. Though they both winced when Halla finished her lesson with a resounding cuff to the unfortunate cub's ears. Jaenelle looked worried for the cub, and Liriash gave her a reassuring nudge. *He's fine - and now he knows not to pick fights with stronger Blood.*  
  
"But did she have to hit him so hard?"  
  
*She wants him to learn. Halla worries about all the cubs, whether they're hers or not. Asking her not to worry is like asking the river to run backwards.*  
  
"Oh." Jaenelle paused, struck by a sudden thought. "Do you want it to? Because I could-"  
  
*NO!* She was caught for a moment between amusement and the desire to bolt for her den, where things made sense. *That's all right, cub, we like the river the way it is.*  
  
Jaenelle nodded in acceptance and leaned back against Liriash's side, apparently quite content to watch the clouds if she couldn't reverse the course of a river. _And she thinks she can't do Craft..._  
  
It was puzzling, to say the least - Jaenelle should have been an adept witch already, with all the power that radiated from her. But Arcerians were powerful too, and their cubs were born with spots and stripes to keep them hidden until they reached full strength. If Jaenelle needed camouflage, then Liriash would do nothing to disturb it; the Arcerians, and all the Kindred, needed her too badly. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
In the remote northern territory of the Arcerian cats, summer was brief, cool - and blazingly beautiful, as if it were trying to pack all the joy and growth of a southern summer into a few short weeks. Liriash wouldn't have traded it for anything.  
  
They were sunning on a low, flat-topped bluff - Liriash, Halla, and Falan with her half-weaned cubs tumbling around her - and watching Jaenelle and Shaleer's madcap game of chase in the clearing below. Sun and exercise were doing the she-kitten good; her eyes were bright and cheeks flushed, a far cry from the quiet, withdrawn air she'd had early this morning. Still too thin, though - was she having trouble learning to hunt?  
  
With Shaleer a careful whisker-breadth behind her, Jaenelle climbed up a boulder - and kept on climbing, scrambling up on nothing until she stood in midair, half a body-length above the startled Shaleer. Her giggle floated up to them as Shaleer reared onto her hind legs to take a lazy swipe at Jaenelle's bare toes.  
  
*She really should have a little more dignity,* Halla said in a tone of fond exasperation.  
  
*Shaleer?* Falan chuffed in amusement. *She's barely more than a cub herself.*  
  
*No, the two-leg. She's - I don't know, but-*  
  
*Special,* Falan finished in perfect understanding.  
  
And they didn't even have a Black Widow's vision to guide them, Liriash thought. She should have known that two old and canny witches would be able to see at least partly through Jaenelle's facade. Liriash saw a little deeper, but didn't deceive herself that she saw it all. Cub she might be, but the child had more facets than she let _anyone_ see. And if a little play in the sun could soothe that angry presence she'd first sensed in Jaenelle, she'd do her best to help.  
  
Partly for Jaenelle, and partly just to tweak Halla's whiskers, she padded to the edge of the bluff, crouched, and sprang out in a shallow arc that took her just under Jaenelle and just over Shaleer. Jaenelle squeaked, lost her concentration, and plummeted to land ungracefully across Liriash's shoulders. A moment later, the clearing had become the site for an impromptu wrestling match, with Jaenelle and Liriash tussling across the grass while Shaleer circled around the two of them, pulling hair and tails with gleeful impartiality.  
  
A trio of happy yowls announced that Falan's litter had joined the fray, and when Liriash regained her feet she saw the aging Queen picking her way daintily down the rock to referee. The mock fight quickly degenerated to adults-against-cubs, with Falan's three cubs under Jaenelle's leadership playing stalk-and-pounce against Liriash and Shaleer. Halla couldn't quite unbend enough to join in and slipped noiselessly away into the underbrush. By the time the uproar died down to an occasional pouncing kitten (plus a few smothered giggles from Jaenelle), she was carefully nudging the last pieces of a pile of food into place. Liriash rubbed cheeks with her in gratitude.  
  
*It's nothing,* the older cat said on a private psychic thread. *Besides, _look_ at the cub! If she's hunting on her own, she desperately needs lessons.*  
  
Privately, Liriash agreed with her. But the times they could see Jaenelle were few and scattered, and she wasn't about to spoil the mood of the day with schooling. And Halla's fish were smelling more tempting every moment.  
  
They settled in for what was a light afternoon snack for the adult cats - fish and a few rabbits, with edible fungus and branches of pale summerberries that Halla had pulled down for Jaenelle. Falan's cubs nibbled dubiously at anything in reach, eager to imitate the adults but clearly not convinced of the benefits of solid food over milk. Jaenelle ended the meal propped comfortably against Liriash's ribs, savoring the last of her berries with a contented sigh. Liriash flicked her tail in mild amusement.  
  
*If Halla saw how many of those berries you could put away, she'd stop trying to give you hunting lessons.*  
  
"She thinks I need _lessons_?" Jaenelle said indignantly. "I could hunt if I had to - I think - I've just never had to, but if I made a sight shield like yours then I could-"  
  
*Cub.* Liriash nudged her affectionately. *She worries, that's all. She worries about _everybody_...she was trying to mother me long after I learned to hunt. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have her trying to wash your ears after you've downed a full-grown stag?* She flattened them at the memory.  
  
Jaenelle snickered at the mental image, but her expression was growing distant and thoughtful. "I don't need hunting lessons, I need-" She stopped, trying to find the words she wanted, then shook her head with a very feline huff of exasperation. "Liriash, what do you do when something's hunting _you_?"  
  
*Fight if you can, run if you can't,* she said pragmatically.  
  
"Yes, but if you can't - if they're too-" She broke off in confusion, biting her lip as if to keep the words in by force. That rich, clean psychic scent was laced with fear and frustration like that of a deer at bay.  
  
Liriash sighed in a long, thoughtful rumble. *Little Sister, everything has a price. Sometimes all you can do is make it high enough that your enemy will regret paying it. There's a story I know, if you'd like to hear it?* She hoped the cub would recognize it for the lesson it was; with no way to write, Kindred witches passed down their Craft through stories and riddles.  
  
"Story?" Jaenelle perked up, curiosity warring with the worry in her eyes. "Yes, please."  
  
So Liriash told her the story she'd learned after passing her apprenticeship, about a Black Widow Queen of the elk Kindred who'd found rogue Arcerian males hunting down her people. Physically they were outmatched, and a battle fought with Craft would have devastated the land. So she'd woven a web that struck at the next Arcerian to taste Kindred blood, and spread to all those who shared his kill. With half their pride locked in fevered delirium, the males had sued for peace; it hadn't stopped the last few deaths, but it had prevented any further hunts. It wasn't a particularly happy story, but it didn't have to be, not as long as it taught its lesson. And Jaenelle, who'd sat soaking it in like rain into the earth, had that thoughtful look on her face that meant she was taking the lesson and making it her own.  
  
"But what happened to the Qu-" Jaenelle glanced up to the sun, and her face paled. "It's late. I have to go. They'll be wondering - I have to go."  
  
She scrambled to her feet, wrapped her arms around Liriash's neck - she stayed still for the odd caress before giving the girl a proper cheek-rub - and caught the nearest Wind with a hasty wave of farewell to the other cats. Padding up beside Liriash, Halla looked dubiously after the child. *I heard the story you were telling her. That's an awfully advanced lesson for a cub.*  
  
*It's all I can do for her. But she doesn't need lessons, she needs teeth and claws.* Jaenelle was going to grow into a formidable Queen, but right now all she had were milk teeth. Sharp, yes, but not enough for defense.  
  
Halla ducked her head in agreement. *I'll see what I can teach her the next time she comes.*  
  
*And I'll help.*  
  
It would be years before they saw her again. 


	4. Chapter Four

Author's Note: Thanks to Vesica for the beta-reading! Be warned: this chapter is a bit darker and noticeably bloodier than the last one. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed - I really do appreciate it.  
  
Chapter Four  
  
Hunters.  
  
The woods were rank with the psychic scent of hostile males. Liriash ghosted through the trees under the tightest sight shield she could create, but she couldn't do anything about the bloody pawprints behind her. Beside her she could feel an angry male presence - Sarahn, a Prince who'd been haunting the woods around the coven, waiting to see if any of the witches were thinking of taking a Consort. When the the first human scouts had come just before sundown, he'd thrown himself into the fight unhesitatingly; no Kindred male would leave a witch undefended.  
  
She was grateful for his presence. There were only four witches who could fight tonight - herself, Halla, and the two daughters from Falan's last litter, grown to adulthood in the years since they'd last seen Jaenelle. And the two-legs had come down on them like a blizzard, more of them and more heavily armed than she'd ever seen before. She'd ordered the nursing mothers - including Shaleer, with the single cub from her first mating - to stay hidden in their dens; with cubs to guard, none of them would be fast enough to break through the net of hunters that surrounded them.  
  
She and Sarahn were prowling the edges of the coven's ground, picking off straggling hunters. This was where the Webs she'd created were worth more than meat or Jewels; they could trap an unwary male, make him think he was following his companions, and lead him to a sheer drop or straight into an angry Arcerian. Others simply snared an enemy mind in dreams, leaving the body standing vacant until it died. They'd split apart, Liriash with Sarahn and Halla with Falan's two daughters, and were slowly taking the hunters down - but the Webs couldn't catch them all, and there were only five cats to deal with more than twenty hunters. She'd felt a second wave of them drop from the Winds, but when they didn't move after landing, she dismissed them as servants and turned her attention back to the hunters.  
  
Her head snapped up, the fur on her neck bristling as she caught the scent of hunters up ahead - an acrid physical odor and a welter of greed and bloodlust in their psychic scents. Their bloodlust resonated with her own. Clumsy, heavy boots trampling through _her_ territory, spears and knives to kill and skin Liriash and her Sisters...her lips wrinkled back in a soundless snarl. She would give them something else to hold their attention.  
  
A flick of energy from her mind to Sarahn's caught the male's attention, and he sent agreement back to her when she outlined her plan. She left his side and eeled through the underbrush as quickly as she dared, swinging wide of the three hunters until she was just ahead of them. A bolt of her birthright Summer-sky brought branches crashing down in front of them, creating an impromptu deadfall as Liriash leaped into their midst. The lead hunter saw her and fired a stream of Sapphire power that sizzled over her head when she crouched to avoid it. He didn't even bother with the boar-spear strapped across his back. _Doesn't want to ruin my pelt, the bastard_ . She backed away from him, tail lashing slowly and fangs bared. It was dangerous, but she had to keep him distracted until-  
  
Sarahn hit them from the back, all claws and roar. The first man died instantly of a broken neck; the second bolted away under a Purple Dusk shield. Straight into the deadfall, where Liriash was waiting for him. When she looked up, Sarahn was circling the lead hunter, snarling with a sound like a thousand angry wasps. Their Jewels were more or less evenly matched, but she was worried about that spear. Frustrated, she snarled, tail whipping indecisively behind her.  
  
*Get to the dens!* Halla's voice rang in her head. *There were more behind the first party - they're in the clearing and - Mother Night, they're _digging_*  
  
*I heard,* Sarahn said tersely. *Go. I'll keep this one occupied.*  
  
She bolted, sacrificing stealth and subtlety as she flew over deadwood and through underbrush. She spared only enough attention for a quick thought to Halla. *Never mind defense - scatter them! Do anything you have to, but get them to cross a Web line.*  
  
*How? You know I can't see*  
  
*You will,* she said grimly, and poured power into the Webs. The intricate patterns she walked every night flared with Green power for any eye to see, and from behind her Sarahn keened with triumph. She felt an anchor line thrum and go dim, and knew the male had forced his enemy into contact with the Web. If the human was lucky, his mind was gone; if not, he would be paralyzed in nightmares until someone killed him. She didn't care which.  
  
She raced along a narrow deer trail and burst into the clearing where the coven denned, all her mind filled with the psychic scents from up ahead. Gloating satisfaction from the hunters, rage from the Arcerians - and death, human and feline alike.  
  
Two of the dens lay open to the sky, ripped apart from the inside by human Craft. A third was under attack; Miya, their Healer, was pouring all her power into a Tiger Eye shield that guarded her den and the wounded Arcerian witch who crouched just inside. Liriash didn't bother with strategy and didn't spare a thought for the dens that had been breached, just launched herself into the thick of the hunters with a saw-edged shriek of rage. Uncontrolled Green power sparked around her as she bit and slashed. She was vaguely aware of Miya spinning shields around her, but she didn't stop until she gradually realized she was shredding long-dead meat under her claws.  
  
*Liriash. They're dead. Stop it.* Miya took a slow, cautious step across the carnage to touch noses with her, trembling with the aftermath of holding a shield against such a sustained attack. *Are you hurt?*  
  
*I'm well enough.* Cut, bruised, and exhausted, but not in any danger. *Keep an eye out for that idiot Prince, though; there's no telling what trouble he's gotten into.*  
  
Miya dipped her head in acknowledgment and turned back to her patient - Arayn, a nursing mother with two cubs huddled behind her, their eyes wide with fear. Some of that fear passed itself to Liriash as she lifted her head, testing the wind for a missing scent. Arayn denned closest to Miya; the farthest den was empty. _Oh, Mother Night..._  
  
She loped to the shattered den, sniffing anxiously even though she knew what she'd find. With scorched earth and blood-soaked snow all around her, she extended a tentative psychic probe to touch the blood.  
  
Shaleer. Not dead when her blood hit the snow, but dying; certainly gone by now. Exuberant, inquisitive Shaleer, vanished like a bubble on the water. Grief froze her, wrenching her body into a tight crouch as her muzzle brushed the snow. No point in moving, not when she'd failed one of her Sisters.  
  
A massive head nudged her shoulder, and she glanced up to meet golden eyes filled with understanding. *Do whatever you need to,* Sarahn said quietly. *I will guard you.*  
  
****************  
  
Liriash crouched at the edge of the clearing where the hunters had first left the Webs. They'd chosen their site well - it was too far past the boundaries of the coven's territory to trigger their defensive spells, but close enough to reach with a short, hard march. At a dead run, Liriash and Sarahn had covered the trail in a fraction of the time the humans would have taken, catching up with them while they were licking their own wounds and preparing their kills for transport. Four pelts - and Shaleer.  
  
They'd taken her head.  
  
The dead Arcerians - Shaleer, another witch, and two young males from unclaimed territory - had been skinned by the second wave of hunters while Liriash had been hunting the first, but Shaleer they'd chosen to take as a trophy. She looked almost serene, but Liriash had no doubt they would fix her muzzle in a snarl so they could boast about their bravery.  
  
Let them boast about this.  
  
Under a sight shield from Sarahn's Sapphire Jewels, she crept as close as she dared to the sledge, piled high with pelts and worse, next to the Carriage these men would ride home. They were hurrying - as well they should - but not really worried about a counterattack. There were too many hunters here, and the cats were too diminished for another pitched battle...but not all battles had to be physical, and nobody knew that better than a Black Widow.  
  
She sat back on her haunches, concentrated, and used a forepaw to sketch a crude sign on the snow. Trained willpower augmented the simple symbol, and a delicate Web shone greenly in the air for a moment before settling onto Shaleer's fur and fading away. It was all she could do. It would be enough, for at least one hunter and those around him.  
  
Sarahn put himself between her and the oblivious hunters the moment she got up, keeping a wary eye on the two-legs until they were well out of sight. *What was that?*  
  
*A dream. Maybe a dream become flesh, if I wove it well enough.*  
  
Sarahn's hackles lifted, and a touch of wariness filtered into his psychic scent. It was a common enough reaction; most Kindred were uneasy when a Black Widow was exercising her Craft. Especially an angry one. *I don't understand.*  
  
*Someone* will take that - will take her head home with him. The Web I wove will draw on whatever Jewel strength is nearby to create an illusion of Shaleer. Nightmares if the hunter is weak, waking visions if he's strong. If he's strong enough, the vision may be real enough to draw blood.* And oh, how she hoped he was strong enough. Shaleer would have her revenge, it would just be delayed.  
  
But it wouldn't change how much she missed her friend.  
  
When the psychic touch came, she almost missed it. It was faint and attenuated, and her Jewels were almost drained - but weak though it was, it was persistent as a cub tugging at her tail. *Liriash. Sister.*  
  
She bared her teeth and took an anxious step backward, earning a concerned look from Sarahn. It couldn't be; Shaleer was _gone_.  
  
*I will be soon. There's not much time.*  
  
A cool wind out of nowhere blew around her, ruffling her fur and urging her to a trail of scuffed snow, running away from the ravaged earth that had once been Shaleer's den. It circled her once and dissipated, taking what remained of Shaleer with it. But her Sister had gotten the message across, and Liriash followed the trail to the snowdrift at its end and started to dig. The snow came away easily under her paws, until they slid against an Opal shield. Sight and physical shields both, but keyed to her; as she drew back, the shields faded away from what they'd been protecting.  
  
Shaleer's only cub. A little Warlord Prince, baby fangs bared in defiance of whatever had taken his mother. He gave her one wary look, then flung himself against her for comfort.  
  
_Poor kitten...how in Hell's name am I going to explain this?_  
  
Sarahn leaned over her shoulder to investigate, and reflexively she flattened her ears and snarled. Grown males were a deadly threat to cubs - for a moment she saw only the male, larger and stronger and capable of a killing fury, not the warrior who'd fought at her side since sundown.  
  
*Lady.* Sarahn took a step backward into a formal, unthreatening stance, Protocol in every line of his body. *I will serve you, if you'll let me.* Protocol. The only way to call a Black Widow back from the killing edge. The only way to soothe a witch with a cub to protect. *Let me help.*  
  
She didn't want to. She didn't want to do anything but hide in her den until the raw edges of all her wounds had healed over. But the offer was sincere, and she was at the end of her strength. Slowly, sanity overcame pride, and the snarl melted away. She picked the cub up gently by his scruff and let Sarahn pace her, answering the survivors' questions, as she walked to her den.  
  
The exhausted cub slept deeply all night, with Sarahn guarding the den and Liriash curled around the cub's body to warm him. She spent most of the night weaving dreamscapes to ease the worst of the cub's grief, and sorting through Black Widow dreams and visions to see what she could learn about him. By morning she knew two things about the cub: his name was Kaelas, and she would not be able to raise him. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five  
  
Liriash cared for the cub for almost a month while the coven recovered, doing what they could to restore land wounded in a pitched battle between human and kindred Blood. The land would heal eventually - this was ugly, but far from the devastation caused by all-out war - and caring for Kaelas gave her hope. She knew he wouldn't be hers long enough to watch him grow up, but it was good to have him here and now, his kitten cheerfulness easing the loss of her friends. Miya nursed the cub, and Sarahn watched him when Liriash was busy rebuilding her tattered, drained Webs. Kaelas wasn't sure about the adult male, alternating between hero-worship and a stubborn territoriality that made him bristle and hiss whenever Sarahn got too close to Liriash. She thought he'd make a fine Warlord Prince one day, once he got to be the same size as everything he tried to pick a fight with.  
  
Winter eased into spring, and with the first touch of warmth on the breeze Jaenelle came back to the coven. She was older by far and less playful now, more like a grown witch with a few kills behind her than the half- weaned human cub Liriash had first met. She had a pair of males escorting her, an Eyrien Warlord Prince and a two-leg Warlord whose race Liriash didn't know. At first she thought the two males were hoping Jaenelle would choose one of them to father cubs, but as she watched, she realized the three of them acted more like littermates. Especially the Eyrien, who would have been pouncing on tails if the other two had them.  
  
She watched worriedly as Falan paced slowly up to greet Jaenelle and be introduced to the two males, Lucivar and Khary. The old Queen was fading fast - they might lose her as soon as this winter - but spring warmth and delight in her friend's return lent a semblance of youth to her. Liriash hung back as the coven gathered around Jaenelle and her escorts; she was happy to see the she-kitten again, but she'd known for some time that Jaenelle's return would mean she lost her own kitten. Kaelas' path led him where Witch walked, and nothing she did would change that. Most of the time, she didn't want to change it.  
  
She put the thoughts aside while she could and went to join the rest of the coven, keeping a curious eye on the two males Jaenelle had brought with her. Lucivar and Sarahn were eying each other speculatively, in one of those wordless male disputes over status that she'd never understood, and the human Warlord Khary was clearly trying to restrain himself from dropping to the ground and playing with the cubs that crowded curiously around. And she...well, she had to talk to Jaenelle.  
  
But first she stepped up behind Khary with a nudge to his side. *Go ahead. If you're with the Lady, you can be trusted with cubs.* Then, with a touch of mostly-friendly malice, added, *Besides, they've chewed up everything in their dens already. They can just as well chew on you for a while.*  
  
"I have a house full of Sceltie pups, Lady," he answered wryly. "There's not a part of me _or_ my house that hasn't been gnawed to a fare-thee- well."  
  
"He's right," Jaenelle added, rising on her tiptoes to peek over Khary's shoulder at the cub he'd scooped up. "There's teethmarks over _everything_ in his house - it's all covered in dog hair, though, so it pretty much evens out."  
  
Khary sputtered; Jaenelle grinned wickedly at him, gave a friendly head-rub to the kitten he was holding, and stepped aside to lay a hand on Liriash's shoulder, following her lead away from the crowd of humans and Kindred. "All right, I felt you start to worry the second we came here. What's wrong?"  
  
*Nothing's wrong, exactly. But I have somebody who needs to meet you.*  
  
Jaenelle tilted her head in confusion, but seemed perfectly willing to trust her, one Black Widow to another. Liriash lifted her head and chirruped softly, reaching for her briefly adopted cub with a delicate psychic tendril. There was a brief scuffle from within the tangle of cubs climbing all over Khary, and Kaelas bounced away from the other cubs and over to Liriash to rub his cheek against her forelegs - as high as he could reach as yet.  
  
"He's wonderful." Jaenelle smiled with open delight and sat down to let the cub take her scent. Kaelas' eyes widened in surprise - and the fascination of a Warlord Prince encountering a Queen. Another moment, and he'd claimed her lap as his own personal territory. Jaenelle laughed and brushed a caressing hand over his fur, but her eyes were serious when she looked up at Liriash. "What's worrying you?"  
  
*He can't stay with me. I started weaving visions for him the night his mother died, and they all said the same thing. Jaenelle, he's meant to serve you.*  
  
"Me?" She squeaked in startlement, and the Queenly mask fell away to reveal the she-kitten Liriash had known years ago. "How am I supposed to raise him?"  
  
*He can groom himself now, and he's old enough for meat,* Liriash said pragmatically. *As for the rest - be yourself, and that will be enough.*  
  
Kaelas had been following the conversation, and turned a thoughtful stare on Jaenelle. *Mother-who-died, and mother-who-takes-care-of-me. And now you. Three mothers, all for me. I like that.* His communication thread was all but vibrating with smugness, and he wriggled into a more comfortable position on Jaenelle's lap, obviously considering the matter settled.  
  
It was in the nature of cubs to grow up and establish their own territory. _Both_ her cubs; she couldn't wait to see what Jaenelle would be like as a full-grown Queen. And if Kaelas could serve Witch, she'd release him with an open heart. She rubbed her cheek lightly across the top of his head and stepped backward. *Take good care of him, cub.*  
  
*Always,* Jaenelle replied on a private distaff thread.  
  
***************  
  
Jaenelle and her escorts left just after sunset, catching the Winds with an excited Kaelas in tow. Liriash watched after them for longer than she meant to - she was glad for the cub, but she would miss his exuberant presence - and jumped when Sarahn padded up beside her.  
  
*He'll be fine. We both know he had to grow up faster than most, and this is just the next step.* His psychic scent was flavored with the same blend of joy and sorrow that Liriash felt, and a touch of - loneliness? That didn't make sense.  
  
*You miss him too,* she said in surprise.  
  
He was silent for a long time. *Lady, I've sired several litters, for witches I respected and who respected me. Not one of them ever let me see the kittens, or do anything more than leave meat at a distance from the den. It was...it was good to see a kitten grow, to have a part in shaping a good Blood male. I wish I could do it again."  
  
*But it's _dangerous_ to have a grown male near after a litter is born. Males can hurt kittens-*  
  
*Some males. Sometimes. Mostly the young ones who can't yet control their instincts - and Lady, I'm far from young.* There was no embarrassment in his statement; Sarahn was still in his prime and proud of having survived to reach it. *I am as controlled as I choose to be.*  
  
Words were not as important to Kindred as to humans - they clarified some things, but everything really important could be read in the body and psychic scent. So Liriash took a moment to consider the offer implicit in Sarahn's statement. Cubs and companionship, weighed against the chance that he might lose the battle with instinct and hurt those same cubs. But she'd trusted him with her life already; it might be safe to trust him with her cubs in the future. The only way to find out was by taking the risk.  
  
She lifted her head to meet him eye-to-eye. *Show me.* 


	6. Epilogue

Epilogue  
  
Curled up around a trio of tiny kittens, Liriash laid her head down on her forepaws. Three cubs was a more than respectable litter for a Kindred witch, and she had damn well _earned_ a little rest. Sarahn was sitting outside the den, where he'd spent most of his time in the two days since the birth; he'd stopped pacing the first day, but she could hear the vibration every time his anxiously flicking tail smacked against the earth of her den. Still, he hadn't disturbed her with a single physical or psychic intrusion, letting her choose her own time to let him see the kittens.  
  
It went against all Arcerian tradition, but she'd promised him. If he could be trusted with kittens while they were blind and helpless, he could be trusted to teach the cubs and play with them later. With his male instincts, and her own instincts to protect her cubs from any possibility of threat, it wouldn't be easy - but with care, it would be possible.  
  
She hoped.  
  
She stood up, nudged the kittens awake, and sent out a tentative communication thread to Sarahn. She was too old and her instincts were too strong to actually invite a male into a den full of kittens, but he sensed the cautious welcome in that psychic touch and accepted it.  
  
He squeezed past the low-hung entrance, took a careful step forward, and froze when he saw the cubs. Liriash sensed the change in their simple psychic scents - curiosity at this new smell and sound - and tensed as the middle cub cheeped curiously and wriggled forward. Sarahn met the kitten more than halfway. Two steps brought him into the middle of the den, and he gave Liriash a long, steady look. *Do whatever makes you feel safe.* And deliberately lowered every inner barrier he had.  
  
Complete vulnerability. A White-Jeweled Blood could have snuffed his mind out in that moment. If the briefest urge to hurt the cubs entered his thoughts, she could destroy him before he could even unsheathe his claws. No sane male should have taken such a risk.  
  
And that was what calmed her enough to sit and watch as Sarahn lowered his muzzle to test the kittens' scent. He rubbed cheeks against all of them - careful, but sure of himself, and quietly pleased to be trusted this far. The kittens were much too young to play with him, but there was none of the fear she'd expected in their psychic scents, and they seemed just as happy to snuggle up with him as with her.  
  
Though she suspected that would change the next time they got hungry.  
  
Eventually Sarahn picked his way around the tangle of kittens and rubbed his cheek against hers. *I should hunt. You'll need food.*  
  
*Not yet.* Right now, being warm with her kittens and mate was much better than meat. *Stay?*  
  
Half-turned to go, Sarahn's posture softened, and his gold eyes warmed. *I would like that.*  
  
She stepped aside, making room for him on the floor of the den where she slept. He stretched out on the side nearest the entrance, carefully lifting one cub after another into the warmth created by his body. Liriash studied the four of them for a moment - it was nothing she would ever have expected to see, a male taking on the witches' work of guarding newborn cubs. But with the coming of Witch, things were changing. So far, she rather liked this change.  
  
She settled herself alongside Sarahn, creating a protected pocket for the cubs, and relaxed in the warmth of her family.  
  
-end- 


End file.
